third post: ceasefire
stop.
i can't take it anymore.
(and the world's shooting colours
flooding shades of sepia and
splashes of grey)
where did you hide, my memories?
did the crosshair on your gun
finally find the target
you'd lusted to kill?
or maybe it was me all along...
did you come for me tonight
to lead me into the line of fire?
or simply to tap me on the shoulder
and remind me that
'i will always watch you'?
you talk to me, through the silence
of my heartbeat
but if you could speak
what would you say?
it doesn't matter anyway.
i bet they're missing you
like i missed your presence
over the lonely nights, where only
discarded coffee cups,
unwavering questions,
and silence knocked at my gate.
so finish your torture
and leave my body
i'll be here to collect it the very next day.
or just stop
and walk away.